


until I come back

by RiotFalling



Series: I will come back from the dead for you [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Character Death, College student Tony, I know I was also surprised, M/M, Sad Ending, Smut, fun with dog tags, like angst angst, one night stand with feelings, special ops Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotFalling/pseuds/RiotFalling
Summary: Bucky meets Tony at a dive bar. He can’t deny that there’s something between them, but Bucky is also leaving soon, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. He only knows that he’ll think about Tony the entire time he’s gone, that as soon as he’s stateside again he’s going to take Tony on an actual date.Except he doesn’t come back.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: I will come back from the dead for you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047121
Comments: 20
Kudos: 92





	until I come back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gayspacesprinkles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayspacesprinkles/gifts).



> Once upon a time I promised my angstiest maniac that I would write a sad MCD ending just for him. Here it is Ant HAPPY DAY OF BIRTH CONGRATS ON BEING OLD. 
> 
> That being said, I’m a softe, and I had to write it a happy ending for myself. So there are two versions of this fic. They start exactly the same and end Very Differently. It is not at all necessary to read one to understand the other, so follow your heart! Thank you and plz enjoy.

Bucky has a usual table at the dive bar. It’s a tiny booth in the very back corner. Farthest from the bright lights over the pool tables, out of the way and lost in shadow enough that even the waitresses miss it every other circle of the small building. 

From his table he has an excellent view of both the front door and the door to the kitchen. He can keep an eye on the bar and all the other small tables scattered around the place, and no one bothers him.

Tonight, Bucky is nursing a glass of whiskey and trying not to take _too much_ note of the cute brunette at the bar with ass for _days._ The young man also has big, clever brown eyes and a laugh that draws attention, a group of friends to laugh along with him. 

They look like students, and even after he determines them unlikely to be a threat Bucky can’t stop looking.

Between one sweep of his eyes over the building and the next, Bucky abruptly realizes the young man with the pretty brown eyes is watching him back.

* * *

Two nights later the young man is back, alone this time, and when he catches Bucky’s eye he smiles, warm and gorgeous and a little wicked.

He sits at the bar, sips at his drink, and watches Bucky watch him.

The next time the waitress actually remembers to stop by his table Bucky orders an extra drink. The surprised flush that rises in the boy’s cheeks when the bartender sets the glass in front of him makes his eyes shine, and Bucky grins toothily.

The young man practically sashays over to his table, drink in hand, and introduces himself as Tony.

Bucky repeats it, tastes the shape of the name on his tongue, and Tony flushes a little darker, grins a little wider. When Bucky's eyes flicker to the empty side of the booth Tony drops into the seat without hesitation.

"Haven't seen you around before," Tony says, eyes big and clever over the rim of his glass, “Which, yes, is both a statement of fact and a pick up line.” 

"Not around much," Bucky says with a shrug and a helpless grin, and Tony hums thoughtfully as his gaze shifts to the chain of Bucky's dog tag, peaking above the collar of his shirt.

Tony doesn't ask any questions. At least, not any of the questions Bucky is expecting. He asks how Bucky feels about sci-fi, then laughs loud and delighted when Bucky rattles off a couple books written in the 60's.

“Never say the word pineapple to me again,” Tony says seriously after asking about his favorite pizza toppings, then reluctantly smiles when Bucky just shrugs, unrepentant.

“What was th’ last movie you walked out of?” Bucky asks, then snorts into his glass when Tony reluctantly admits that it was WALL-E.

“It was too sad!” Tony insists and leans across the table to swat at him when Bucky’s shoulders shake harder, completely unafraid, “I finished it eventually!”

So they spend the night talking about nothing. 

Bucky laughs more than he has in years. When Tony leaves it's with a last, lingering look over his shoulder, and Bucky bites his tongue against the urge to offer to walk him home. He settles for watching Tony leave, grip on his empty glass tightening.

Bucky was wrong, that first night, getting to know Tony could be _very_ dangerous.

* * *

The next night, Tony is already waiting at his table with two glasses of whiskey and a bright smile that almost distracts from the nervous tapping of his fingers against the table.

He _knows_ it’s a bad idea, but Bucky drops into the seat across from him anyways, and Tony’s grin gets wider.

They talk about their favorite cars, and the excitement on Tony’s face is almost blinding as he tells Bucky about the Roadster he’s fixing up. Tony’s eyes drop a little when he talks about his family, voice more subdued, but he lights up again when Bucky asks what he’s studying.

Bucky haltingly tells his own stories, growing up in Brooklyn, the time his sisters tricked him into eating a cake made with salt, egged on by Tony sharing his own embarrassing tales. 

Floating high on the sound of Tony’s laugh, the way Tony’s legs nudge against his own beneath the table.

They’ve barely started on their second round when the waitress comes by to tell them it’s last call, and Bucky can see his own surprise echoed on Tony’s face. He can’t remember the last time he lost track of time so completely.

This time when Tony heads for the door Bucky is right behind him, Tony’s calloused hand held tightly in his own.

* * *

It's a cold night, and Tony steps into his space under the flickering neon of the bar light.

Tony has to tip his head so far back, and Bucky has to tip his chin so far down, and Tony’s breath is _so warm_ against his lips. It makes Bucky feel extra huge, monstrous, curling down around Tony like he's trying to hide it.

He's all too aware of how easy it would be to wrap himself around Tony, envelop him completely and never let go.

“Wanna walk me home?” Tony asks and his little smirk gets wider, eyes dark and wicked as he adds “And then come up and fuck me?”

Bucky is leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back, Tony knows he is, Bucky said it the first night they talked in some pitiful attempt to put up a wall. 

For all the good that did him.

He’s already in too deep, falling fast, his hands on Tony’s hips before Bucky is even aware that he’s moving. Like he needs something to hold onto.

“Yes,” Bucky says, and he means all of it. He wants to walk Tony home, wants to take him inside and take him apart.

He wants _everything._

* * *

Tony's apartment is small, and cluttered, somehow exactly what Bucky had expected. Before he can investigate any of the half-built gadgets or thick books laying around Tony is kissing him, kissing him like he may never get another chance and Bucky’s heart clenches painfully at the thought.

He shoves it away, eagerly chases Tony's lips as they stumble into the equally small bedroom and tumble gracelessly into bed, tossing their clothes aside along the way.

"Can I-" Bucky asks, lips tracing down the line of Tony's neck with the barest hint of teeth.

 _"Yes,"_ Tony sighs, fingers in Bucky's hair, pulling him in and arching against him.

Anything he asks, Tony breathes out _yes,_ like a plea. He lets Bucky suck deep purple marks into his throat and down his chest, lets Bucky scrape his teeth over the delicate arch of his collarbone, the peak of his nipple and the curve of his hip.

“Please,” Tony gasps when Bucky slides two fingers into him, impatient, and Bucky groans low in his chest.

His blood rushes harder with every desperate roll of Tony’s hips, working himself open while Bucky bites more blooming marks into his skin. Bucky’s heartbeat is deafening as he mouths at Tony’s cock, adds a third finger and works them until Tony is soft and open around him, clawing at Bucky’s shoulders as he pulls away.

 _“Now,”_ Tony demands, heel digging into Bucky’s side as he struggles to roll himself over, and then moans _so sweet_ when Bucky bites hard into the meat of his thigh. 

“Fuck—“ Bucky groans as he presses himself against Tony, presses _into him._ He wraps his rough hands around Tony’s hips, huge and dangerous, presses a little deeper while Tony’s breathless moans ring in his ears. “ _Fuck,”_ he growls again, “‘M gonna _break_ you.”

“No you’re not” Tony says around a laugh that has him tightening up slightly, has both of them moaning, “C’mon I can- _fuck_ I can take it, I swear- _oh-“_

He arches his back harder, gorgeous sweat-slick curve of his spine stealing Bucky’s breath even before he sinks _deeper._ Before he completely loses himself in the tight clench of Tony around him, falling into it, until his hips press up against that perfect ass.

“Fuck yes- _oh-“_ Tony whines when Bucky rolls his hips, grinding into him, and he moans wordlessly when Bucky starts to withdraw.

It’s overwhelming, Tony warm and perfect as he writhes beneath him, against him, the way Tony shoves himself back into every hard thrust and the _sounds_ he makes. Bucky wraps himself around Tony, sinks his teeth into his shoulder and when Tony begs _harder, more, please,_ Bucky gives it to him.

He’d give Tony anything.

 _“Bucky,”_ Tony sighs when he comes, one hand tangled in the sheet and the other thrown back to yank at Bucky’s hair, still egging him on.

He growls into Tony’s ear, sucks at his throat and drives himself into Tony’s shaking body until he falls apart with a sound that’s almost pained, finally stilling his hips as he pants against the teeth marks on Tony’s shoulder. He doesn’t move until Tony whines and tugs at his hair again, then groans as he slowly withdraws and rolls them both over.

 _“Fuck,”_ Bucky breathes out as he stares at the ceiling, and Tony laughs against the curve of his throat.

“Yeah,” Tony says happily and goes limp, half sprawled across Bucky and his voice already slurring with sleep, “Well done, A+ work from everybody, encore, so on and so forth.”

Bucky hums, presses his fingers into Tony’s messy curls to rub at his scalp and in no time at all Tony’s breathing goes even and deep.

He should leave, Bucky knows he should, before it seems even more impossible than it does now. But instead he just tightens his other arm around Tony’s waist, pulls him closer and breathes him in.

* * *

Bucky doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to Tony still sprawled out on his chest, drooling a little. There are hickies blooming on Tony’s neck and shoulders, red and purple and splotchy, and Bucky doesn’t even think about trying to leave. He’s already in too deep.

Tony wakes up slowly, lots of twitching and snuffling noises, and he’s still half asleep when he must realize Bucky is still there because he stills for a second before he clings to Bucky harder.

“When do you have to leave?” Tony asks, not lifting his head from Bucky’s chest, his fingers tapping Bucky’s ribs.

“Couple hours,” Bucky says and it’s not enough time, it’s _not enough,_ so he taps at Tony’s chin and says “Hey, look up here for me sweet thing.”

Tony twists his head, looks up at Bucky with his big bambi eyes and the slightest downward twist to his lips that he can’t quite hide. Bucky quickly shifts his dog tags from his own neck to Tony’s and then smiles as Tony’s eyes go even wider, as pink spreads across his cheekbones.

”Gonna take you on a proper date,” Bucky promises, throat tight, stomach twisting, “Soon as I get back. So don’t forget me, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony repeats, a little breathless, and gets his hands in Bucky’s hair to pull him down into a kiss.

He pulls until Bucky rolls with him and presses him down into the mattress again, kisses him deep and desperate and _aching_ while Tony arches up against him. 

Tony is hard against his thigh, so warm and _so sweet_ as he pulls Bucky in, pulls him closer, kisses him harder while Bucky huffs out a laugh against his lips.

“Aren’t you already sore enough?” Bucky asks, dragging a hand down Tony’s chest, and pressing his teeth to Tony’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Tony says happily, hooking one leg over Bucky’s hip and grinding up against him, “Wanna feel you til you get back, c’mon honey, really leave a mark.”

So Bucky growls, bites him harder and reaches for the lube again.

He’s barely sunk himself into Tony again, golden thighs spread wide around his hips and Tony’s lips so hungry against his own, when an alarm starts blaring in the next room.

“That’s my phone,” Tony gasps while Bucky rolls his hips, presses himself _deep,_ chases the flush that’s spreading across Tony’s cheeks, down his neck. “It’s- _ah,_ probably still in my pants, _fuck- yes—“_

“It’ll stop,” Bucky growls and rolls his hips again, starts fucking him for real, slow and deep, determined to leave his mark.

It doesn’t stop, just gets louder, until with a frustrated groan Bucky shoves himself to his feet, scooping Tony up with him in the process, arms looped securely around Tony’s waist. 

Tony wraps himself around Bucky with a low whine as Bucky marches towards the kitchen, still buried inside him, and it doesn’t take them long to spot Tony’s pants, thrown over the small bar that separates living room from kitchen.

Bucky slams Tony down on the counter, fucks into him with deep, slow strokes while Tony fumbles his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, moaning and gasping and begging for more.

 _“Bucky,”_ Tony whines, clawing at his shoulders and yanking at his hair, like he’s trying to leave marks of his own. He nearly wails when Bucky lifts him up again, holds him in close and fucks him harder until Tony is groaning out _“What-_ oh my _god—“_

“Gotta make sure you miss me,” Bucky says, smirking and breathless, his lips dragging over Tony’s skin and punctuating each word by yanking Tony down onto his cock again, “Really give you somethin’ to remember me by.”

Tony clings to him tighter, moaning his name, and his nails dig into Bucky’s skin when he comes. He pulls Bucky into a kiss, needy and uncoordinated, and then whimpers so perfectly when Bucky presses him down into the bar again, fucks him with thrusts gone short and uncoordinated.

“Bucky,” Tony sighs when Bucky growls his way through his own orgasm and then tucks his face down to pant fast and warm against his dog tags where they’re pressed to Tony’s chest. Tony’s fingers slide through his hair and his voice is thick as he says “Bucky, _Bucky...”_

He doesn’t want to pull away, but he _has_ to, they both do, and there’s something growing hot and painful in Bucky’s chest. He can see it echoed on Tony’s face when he finally lifts his head, he can feel it sharpen when Tony curls down and presses a kiss to the curve of his eyebrow.

Showering takes Bucky longer than it should, because he stands zero chance against Tony’s big eyes and all-too-innocent “Don’t you _care_ about conserving water?”

They make out like teenagers under the shower spray until the water goes cold, until Bucky really does need to leave _now_ or he’s going to be late. Tony follows him to the door in just a pair of tight little boxers that Bucky would _really_ like to tear off of him, and Tony’s strained smile is _almost_ believable.

Bucky wishes his own smile felt as solid.

“See you when I get back,” he says, tugging a little at the chain around Tony’s neck, just to hear the way the tags clatter against Tony’s chest.

“Until then,” Tony says, like a promise, and kisses him one last time.

* * *

So Bucky leaves.

And he falls.

* * *

Tony wears the dog tags for longer than he would ever admit to out loud.

He drags his thumb over the raised letters until he knows them by heart, until he hears the soft clatter of them in his dreams. He never did get a chance to ask where the nickname ‘Bucky’ came from.

Tony goes to the dive bar almost every night, until his friends start shooting him worried looks, but all he does is sit in the tiny booth tucked away in the corner, slowly working on one glass of dark whiskey so they won’t kick him out.

He goes to the bar less and less, and after about a year he stops.

Bucky knows his name, where he lives, Bucky knows where to find him.

Tony drags his thumbnail over the raised letters, tells himself Bucky knows where to find him.

* * *

He keeps the dog tags tucked under his shirt when he gets tired of being asked about them, and at night he traces the name on skin-warmed metal.

Thinks about the way Bucky’s eyes had crinkled up as he smiled. The quiet rumble of his laugh and the way his smirk would go wicked when he made Tony blush.

Tony knows it's a stupid thing to be upset about. He's no stranger to one night stands after all, usually all he has the time or attention for, and he knows it's stupid to care this much, but he just...

He'd just _really liked_ Bucky.

* * *

Tony tells himself that if he just _knew,_ it’s not like Bucky _has_ to come back, it’s been almost two years,it’s _stupid_ to be this upset. 

He wouldn’t blame Bucky for changing his mind, but if he just _knew—_

So he does some digging, he has a name and maybe he breaks a couple laws, but at least he finds answers. 

He finds mission reports, heavily redacted, and he finds a death certificate. 

Tony wipes any trace that he was hacking into systems he shouldn’t be, shuts down his computer and stares at the black screen for a long time, thumb tracing over the raised words that he knows by heart.

It’s _so stupid._

He crawls into bed, falls asleep clutching the dog tags and choking on his sobs. It was better not knowing, it was so much better. 

* * *

Tony wakes up the next morning, eyes sore and chest aching. He drags his thumbnail over the raised letters of the dog tags, takes a deep breath, and then pulls them off and sets them on his nightstand. 

He feels light. He feels hollow.

It’s so stupid.

* * *

He dates, and it’s fine. No one laughs at his tunnel in the sky jokes, no one lights up when he talks about his bots, no one listens when Tony gets quiet, not the way—

But it’s fine. He’s moving on.

Tony tells himself he’s moving on.

* * *

He’s moving out of his tiny apartment, way later than he should have, when he finds them again. 

The dog tags have ended up nearly shoved off the back of his nightstand, covered by power cords and crumpled up notes-to-self, tangled with a keychain of hexkeys.

Tony digs them out, brushes off the dust and runs his thumb over the name, raised edges worn smoother by the repeated motion.

He curls down around himself on the floor, back against the bed frame, and tries to breathe. His eyes are wet and Tony tells himself this is the last time, _swears_ that he’s moving on.

He can still perfectly picture Bucky standing in the doorway, saying goodbye. Tony needs to get out of here, he knows he does, but he stays on the floor for a long time.

The dog tags go into a box, barely big enough to hold them, sturdy enough to protect them.

When he gets to his new apartment Tony puts the box in the bottom of a drawer, buried under clothes he never wears, and swears that he won’t think about them again.

* * *

Tony never can bring himself to get rid of them.


End file.
